


Watch me now (me and my girls)

by wonthetrade



Series: my head's not bowed [12]
Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: 2017 NHL All-Star Game, Alternate Universe - Always a Different Sex, Gen, Hijinks & Shenanigans, Women Being Awesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-24
Updated: 2017-08-24
Packaged: 2018-12-19 11:22:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11896707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wonthetrade/pseuds/wonthetrade
Summary: In which Sid is determined to score a goal and show up the rookies, Jack does a lot of chirping, Ryan and Jordan love on Taylor, and other All-Star weekend shenanigans.





	Watch me now (me and my girls)

**Author's Note:**

> Obligatory note that if you got here by googling yourself or someone you know turn back now. No seriously.
> 
> GB timeline notes:  
> -Steph has not been traded to CBJ yet  
> -PK and Webs have not been traded yet

**Ryan**

From the day the schedule came out, Ryan’s had the All Star Game circled on her calendar. When asked, she’s happy to spout the cliches about hanging out with the women and the excitement of supporting Connor. Basically, all of the party lines.

In reality, it’s about Taylor.

It’s so much about Taylor that even when she lands and notifies the group chat, Tyler doesn’t immediately jump at the opportunity to hang out. (She does, however, send two eggplant emojis and the droplets. Because she’s classy like that.) Ryan’s been looking forward to the weekend so much that she’s shaking by the time they make it to Taylor’s hotel room - _their_ hotel room - her grip white-knuckled around Jordan’s.

“Hey,” Jordan says, low and quiet as they stop. He raises their hands to his mouth, pressing his lips to her knuckles. “What’s up with you? It’s just Taylor.”

 _Just Taylor_ , he says, like these months without Taylor there, with an extra space empty at the table and too much room in their bed, haven’t been just as hard on him, if not harder. Because while Ryan had also kind of lost a boyfriend and a best friend in Taylor’s trade, she knows she doesn’t have history with him the way Jordan does.

She’s opening her mouth to reply when the door opens and Taylor’s there, grin wide and gleaming. “You know it’s a hotel. The walls aren’t that thick.”

Ryan doesn’t remember letting go of Jordan, let alone how she’s managed to shove Taylor back into the room and against the closest sturdy surface. All she feels is the way he grips her back, arms tight and strong around her shoulders. She wiggles one arm up to tangle in his hair, holding his head while she presses her face into his neck. Taylor makes a shushing sound that actually does nothing for the storm of emotions racing through her because _he’s here_.

“Hey,” she feels Taylor say. Then one of his hands is leaving her back and she whimpers. The hand is replaced by a body a moment later, and Ryan can hear Taylor and Jordan kissing. She’d join in, if she were any less busy trying to keep herself together.

“You look good,” Jordan murmurs, low and intimate.

“Feel good,” Taylor promises, and Ryan can attest to that. He doesn’t feel wiry or leaner than he should be. He feels just as strong and broad as he had when he’d been with them every day.

“We missed you,” is what Jordan tells him next, still in that quiet voice.

Taylor laughs a little and squeezes Ryan. “I can tell.” Then there’s a hand tangled in her hair and she has no idea what kind of sound she releases when the fingers wind around the strands and tug. “You gonna come up here and kiss me, Nuge?”

Ryan wants a hundred things. She wants to stay right here, she wants to kiss him, she wants him surrounding her, she wants…

“Slow down,” Jordan whispers softly, running his hands up her back and Ryan realizes she’s trembling.

“I missed you,” she breathes out, because she has to say it independently of Jordan. Jordan knows all these dark spots, all the spots Taylor fills. Taylor… doesn’t. “I love you.”

Taylor smiles at her, fond and maybe a little indulgent. “I love you too, but remind me why you’re not kissing me?”

Ryan laughs and pushes up onto her toes to fix just that.

* * *

 

**Dani and Marcia**

_Do you think Malkin is going nuts with how buddy-buddy Sid and Ovi have suddenly become?_

Dani snorts at the message. _He does get a little jealous, doesn’t he?_

_World Cup comes to mind._

_He’s probably just sad that he’s not there to join in the insanity. Aren’t you?_

_Ugh. Actual injuries suck. I guess McD needs time brushing up on his socializing skills, though._

She has to admit that the Rangers’ captain has been as stiff as a board every time he’s come on screen, so Marcia’s probably not wrong.

_Wanna bet on Sid showing up the kids? She’s up against McDavid and Matthews in accuracy._

_No bet,_ Dani responds, rolling her eyes. Sid will leave them in her dust, talent or no. There’s something to be said for a certain amount of age and treachery.

_You’re no fun._

_I’m Team Mom, I’m not supposed to be fun._ The designation has never bothered her, it’s her very nature to hover and fuss. Her mother has always said that she’s something of an old soul. Henrik’s the same, and their parents have told them that raising them was like raising psychic fifty-year-olds in toddler bodies.

_It’s driving you nuts that you’re not there to watch over the rookies, isn’t it?_

_A little._

She and Marinette had Auston over for dinner in December as per tradition. It’s a sneaky little way to feel them out and find out how they’re handling their rookie season. It works simply because the food and atmosphere is good, and if they don’t open up to her in some way, they open up to Marinette. From there it’s easy to decide who to talk to, whether it’s one of the other women or someone on the rookie’s team. Dani’s old enough that she has connections on all teams, one way or another.

Auston feels more grounded than almost every rookie that’s come her way. High praise, considering where she’s playing. It’s not that Auston doesn’t have the same kind of drive or pressure that say, Jack had, but her support system runs deep and constant and it shows.

In any case, it’s a very efficient way to operate, and it amuses Henke to no end. He always says that she’ll end up running the government someday.

Dani thinks she’ll just stick to watching over her team, and the women. It’s never an easy role, but it’s one she relishes.

* * *

 

**Sid**

She doesn’t set out with a mission for the weekend, she really doesn’t. The insanity of being named to the Top 100 is more than enough so all she’s planned for is just sitting back and enjoying everything.

And she is. The women have taken over her hotel room again, offering excited commentary as she shrugs into the tailored blazer for the ceremony. Nate is chatting to Ryan in a corner of the room and Tyler hadn’t even bothered to say anything about it when he snuck in, just rolling her eyes and continuing to roast Sid in front of the In the Room crew.

But later, she overhears the conversation Tyler is having with Jack and Auston. “Pricey has you up for a few events, doesn’t she Matts?” she asks, grinning. “Going to show off your skills?”

Auston shrugs. She’d hovered for a moment in the doorway, a little unsure about joining the party, before Jack shoved her into the room. Sid remembers that feeling all too well, wondering about her place. With everything she knows now, she can safely say that Auston’s going to have no trouble finding it. “I guess.”

“You’re being too modest,” Jack remarks with a scowl.

Tyler beams and meets Sid’s eye. “Maybe you’ll make an All-Star game goal before Sid, here.”

Tyler’s just trying to poke the bear. Sid knows this, but it doesn’t stop her hackles from going up the slightest bit because yes, she’s not happy about being to this many games and not registering a single goal. Points, yes, but not goals. It’s the moment she realizes that this year, she’s being pitted against some of the rookies that are truly “following in her footsteps” - namely, Auston and Connor McDavid.

She’s not going to let them show her up.

The 3-on-3 format is a little jarring, and she thinks rather wistfully of last year’s draft because it meant there was more room for the other women. Still, she can’t complain about the atmosphere, soaking up the good company and the fantastic energy.

And in the absence of one Russian, she has another, even though she sometimes wants to throttle Ovi. He has a habit of giving her smug grins and saying something in Russian, usually with the word, “Zhenya” tucked in there.

“Don’t worry Sid!” he exclaims cheerfully as they watch Carey line up for the goalie shot. “We get you your goal tomorrow.”

It’s kind of embarrassing, how much she wants that goal. But now it’s out there and something needs to be done. “Promise?” she responds wryly, smiling.

He places a hand over his heart, gap-toothed grin wide and engaging. “Of course! Only the best for Sid!”

Carey makes the shot on the first try, because of course she does. Sid watches the way she smirks at a beaming PK. The amount of pride and joy he has for her is obvious, and she can’t help but bask in that glow and the knowledge that she has that too.

Then it’s time for the accuracy shooting and she can’t help how she sharpens up and pays attention. McDavid gets his in 15.64 seconds. Auston follows and does it in 12.28.

“Show the kids, Sid!” Ovi calls as she skates out. Sid glances over and catches Auston’s eye in the process. The younger girl grins, challenging, and flashes her a thumbs up.

Sid knows it’s not malicious in any way, but it lights a fire beneath her all the same. McDavid is great. Auston is great.

She’s just _better_.

She doesn’t think about each shot, just takes a deep breath before the time starts and focuses on the targets. One, two, three, four. And when she looks up to check, she’s done it faster than Auston (10.73) and it’s her turn to smile, smug and proud of herself.

Ovi’s high five is exuberant, and she has to endure a number of slaps on the back as she heads back into the line. Carey and Tyler are grinning like fiends. “Way to show the rookies how it’s done,” Carey murmurs in her ear before skating off.

Auston comes over too, smiling ruefully. There’s a tinge of awe in her expression, but nothing that would make Sid too uncomfortable. “Looks like I have a lot of things to work on, eh?” she asks, extending her hand.

Sid just grins. “You’ll get there.”

Ovi, of course, chooses that moment to come crashing in, sweeping them both up in a hug. “Sid and Baby Leaf!” he cries happily. “So much talent together!”

“Uh...thanks?” Auston hazards, untangling herself. “I’m just gonna go...over there.”

He just waves at her, still bubbling over with pure and simple joy, then turns around and hands over a pair of Snapchat glasses. “These are cool Sid, you should try them.”

She glances at them, confused. “How do these work?”

PK glides over as she slides them on, making a few joking comments about her budding friendship with Ovi. “You’re just jealous.” Ovi beams so wide and Sid can’t help smiling back, shaking her head.

“Totally,” PK declares. “I’m devastated, I want in on this.” And then he promptly drifts towards Carey, resuming his normal orbit, the comet to her sun.

Sid looks down at the ice, her expression turning rueful. Looks like missing Geno makes her a little poetic. He should be here, not just because he’d been named an All-Star before his injury, but as one of the Top 100. It felt wrong to stand on that stage being honored for a career that wouldn’t be the same without him.

Geno, of course, disagreed and all but bullied her onto the plane to LA.

“What’s this?” Ovi squawks. “Sid, you’re not allowed to be sad! Come, let’s make funny faces at babies.”

And, apparently, sic-ed Ovechkin on her.

“Yeah, I’m coming.” She supposes there are worse things. Besides, they have a game to plan for. This time, she’s not leaving without her goal.

* * *

 

**Mal**

_no way ur boy beats davo in head to head speed._

Mal can't help but cackle delightedly at Jack’s text, her mind automatically skipping over the idea of Dylan being her boy, because isn’t he technically Jack’s boy, USNTDP and all? _aren’t u betraying america by cheering for mcdavid?_

_does that mean ur cheering for davo? cuz I don’t think u r._

She has to admit that Jack has her there. Of course she’s rooting for Dylan to keep his record. She was there when he made it, had been screaming her head off from the sidelines as he crossed the finish line, cheeks rosy and beaming like an idiot as he saluted the Nashville crowd. Sure, she’s probably betraying Canada by rooting against McDavid, but that had been a special moment, and Dylan had been so proud and rightfully so.

_I guess we’ll just see what happens._

After a moment of thought, she fires off another text. _rooting for u, u know._

His response is almost immediate. _thanks_ , followed by a blushy, smiley emoji. _davo is pretty fast tho._

 _ur still pretty speedy. should I call u speedy from now on?_ She calls him “Larks,” like pretty much everyone, though sometimes she calls him “Curly,” because those curls are just ridiculous.

_if u want._

She’s knows he’s watching because they text each other through the skills tests, both of them paying just that much more attention when McDavid smokes MacKinnon and ends up making the fastest skater run himself. McDavid’s great, Mal knows that. There’s something about the way he bursts off his feet, but there’s something with Dylan too, in the swing of his arms and the smoothness of his turns and how he doesn’t seem to lose momentum at all.

In the end, Dylan keeps his record and Mal gets a lot of outraged emojis from Jack. The commentators are already saying things about McDavid’s standing start versus Dylan’s running start, and it’s clear something needs to be said.

Dylan ends up beating her to it. _PR says I need to tweet something abt the results. Help?_

 _ur asking me?_ She cannot help but be surprised. That’s what the front office is for, really.

_yeah. u and pk r so good at words. Idk._

Well. She’s not going to let him down. Together they hash out a few iterations, something just a little cheeky but with lots of good sportsmanship that he can send out into the social media ether. Detroit’s front office approves one of them, and that’s the one that goes up.

 

 

 

> A lot of people making a big deal about the fastest skater! I understand the advantages of a running start and I'm very glad #97 didnt...
> 
> — Dylan Larkin (@Dylanlarkin39) [January 29, 2017](https://twitter.com/Dylanlarkin39/status/825549116956622849)

 

 

 

> (CONT) get a start like I did for the sake of all organized skating events in the future! [@cmcdavid97](https://twitter.com/cmcdavid97) was buzzing! Head to head one day?
> 
> — Dylan Larkin (@Dylanlarkin39) [January 29, 2017](https://twitter.com/Dylanlarkin39/status/825549813286633476)

_nice_ , she sends him, along with a thumbs-up emoji.

 _couldn’t have done it without u_ , he sends back, alongside several hearts. The dork.

_yeah yeah, whatever._

* * *

 

**Jack**

It’s been a long time since Jack’s been able to just watch a hockey game. Sure, she’d been in the box during her injury, but it’s not the same as being able to catch a game as a fan. LA though - LA is packed with fans, and while Jack could have easily used Connor’s name - not to mention Sid or Tyler or Auston or any number of her own hockey friends donning skates for the occasion - Jack wanted to go ‘as a fan’.

“Everyone knows you,” Connor argued when she’d outlined her plan. “Come on, you know my family’s coming down. You can sit with them. Cam loves all of your opinions.”

“Of course he does,” Jack replies, “He can actually _learn_ something from me.”

She doesn’t relent though. She sticks to her ticket, higher up in the stands, where she used to watch when she was young and could make it to Bruins games. It’s a different atmosphere up here, fun, buzzing, the energy of the fans in a market Jack sometimes thinks shouldn’t be able to support hockey at all.

It’s easy to tug her hat a little lower over her eyes and settle in. It’s even easier to chirp as the event gets underway. She’s generous in her critique, but she takes special pride in heckling Connor the way she does when she’s at home.

“What was that, come on McDavid, you have a quicker release than that.” She cheers loudly when his record is roundly beaten by first Auston, then Sid (and that just leaves her breathless, damn, there are times when she almost forgets just how good Sid is). “Beaten by girls, some McJesus.”

There’s a huff from beside her, and Jack glances over out of the corner of her eye. There’s nothing the little girl is wearing to identify that she’s a fan of any particular team, so Jack figures it’s about her language. Which, fair. She probably should have been paying closer attention to the people around her when she’d sat down to begin with.

But then Connor comes this close to beating Larkin’s fastest skater time and Jack finds herself saying, “If you could use your damn edges maybe you wouldn’t have been so slow! What a joke.”

“Why do you hate Connor McDavid?”

Jack freezes.

“You’ve been mean to him the whole time. He’s like, the best, after Sidney Crosby.”

Jack side-eyes the little girl, nervous to turn her head and look. “I don’t hate him.”

“Then why are you so mean?”

Jack closes her eyes and bites her lip for a moment, then has to turn. The girl’s got her hands on her hips, her parents looking over in concern, right up until they get a look at her face. Even the little girl’s jaw drops.

“Holy shit.”

Jack can’t help the way her mouth turns up when she flicks her gaze to the little girl’s mother, obviously a little embarrassed about the swearing.

“You’re-” the little girl starts. Jack hastily holds a finger up to her mouth.

“Shhhh. I'm trying to be low-key, here.” She winks at the girl and sends an awkward wave her parents’ way. “Sorry about the language. Occupational hazard, you know.”

The girl’s eyes are still so large, like she can't believe what she's seeing. “Why are you sitting up here?”

“I like the atmosphere. It's more fun. Anyway, I should probably explain - listen, what's your name?”

“Maria Luisa. Marilu.”

Jack can feel the grin spreading across her face. “Marilu. That's really pretty. So, long story short, I don't hate him.”

“The news always says you do.”

She snorts and bends down a little. “Can I tell you a secret? The news likes making it seem like I do, but I promise it's not like that. See, I know exactly how good he is. It's just good to remind him from time to time, keep him humble.”

Marilu chews on her bottom lip for a moment, looking indecisive. “So you don’t mean it?”

The “no,” is sitting at the tip of her tongue but Jack’s policy of never lying to kids is set in stone. “Oh, I mostly mean it. But Da-Connor understands what I mean.” He might pout a little bit, but he’s used to it by now.

Marilu, on the other hand, doesn’t look convinced and an idea sparks. “Hey, how about this. If your parents agree, we can all take a little trip after the competition and you can ask him yourself, how does that sound? We can even see Sid, since you said you like her.”

Jack really hopes she’ll never get tired of how a little kid’s face lights up at the prospect of meeting their favorite player. “Really? Mommy, Daddy, can we go?”

“We really don’t want to be a bother-”

“I wouldn’t have offered if it was a bother. Really.”

Which is how Jack finds herself leading a newfound shadow and her family down to the locker rooms after the event. Once Marilu got over her initial shock, Jack was inundated with hockey questions, much to her family’s mortification. Jack, on the other hand, loves it. This is a girl who has hockey in her blood and that’s something to be encouraged.

“Davo!” she sing-songs. “Someone has a question for you!”

Connor’s face softens as he catches sight of her, her stomach giving an answering kick as he stands up and makes his way over to them. “I should have known that you’d make friends.”

“I’m delightful, I make friends everywhere,” she informs him over Marilu’s giggles.

“Jack’s a riot, eh?” he laughs, crouching down to get at Marilu’s level. “What’s your name?”

“Marilu. Does Jack really chirp you like she did during the game?”

The look Connor sends her says, _of course you were chirping me in front of children._ Jack just shrugs, unrepentant. “She does, all the time. But Jack’s so good at hockey that everything she says is meant to make me better.” He glances back at her, his expression tinged with sincerity and no small amount of awe and reverence. “And she does make me better.”

Well hell. Jack has to look away before she does something embarrassing, and ends up catching the eye of Marilu’s mother.

The older woman smiles knowingly. “What a keeper. Don’t worry, we won’t tell a soul.”

She coughs, feeling the heat rise to her cheeks. “Uh. Thanks. Let me...go get Sid.”

He really does need to do something about those hearteyes, she thinks as she heads over to the other locker room. But somehow, she really can’t bring herself to care.

* * *

 

**Dylan**

“Do you wish it was you?”

Mitch hums a little, stroking his hand through her hair. She’s curled against him in a way that’s usually his position, little spoon to big spoon. It’s hers tonight though because wiped from the game and from seeing Mitch for the first time in too long. From the pride of seeing him drop the puck in a Knights uniform, even though he’s now up with the Leafs.

“In LA,” she states, even though they both know what she’s talking about. There’s Connor and Auston, rubbing elbows with Sid and Tyler - the latter of whom Dylan’s already texted too many times about watching her language this year - and they’re… here.

“No,” Mitch says finally. It’s an answer that doesn’t surprise Dylan as much as she’d anticipated. Mitch barks out a laugh. “Have you seen Matts play?”

She has. Of course she has. What the hell does he think she does? He’s on that team too, after all. It’s not like she can stop herself from tuning into her hometown team that doubles as her boyfriend’s team. “Davo could still skate circles around her.”

Because Dylan believes in feminism and solidarity of the NHL women, but she believes in Connor more.

(In Mitch too, but they don’t work like that. Dylan doesn’t have to tell him what she thinks. Dylan shows him when she calls and leaves him breathless voicemails about his goals, about how hot he is on the ice, about what it does to her.

They’re really good at phone sex.)

Mitch laughs again, leaning down to kiss her head. “She’s my girl. And god, Dyls, she’s so good.”

It’s not jealousy that spikes through Dylan, per se. It’s a pang, sure, and it’s not a comfortable one, but…

“Don’t do that,” he scolds gently, wiggles down until her head is tucked into his neck, her body sprawled over his. “Dylan. Don’t be dumb.”

She’s really trying not to. She’s trying _really_ freaking hard not to be dumb about Connor making it, Mitch making it, but not her. Crouser even made the show before she did and Trixie’s not having a bad season in Philly and she’s…

She’s in Erie.

“Max took a while. Dvo took a while,” she mumbles, like rote now.

“And you get another year with Brinks and Raddy. You wanted that, Dyls.”

She did and she didn’t. Mitch knows. She hadn’t even cried when she’d told Connor about being sent back. She’d cried to Mitch though, ugly tears. He’d let her sulk, then called her again, fire in his eyes to tell her to get her shit together, that she needed to make the show because he didn’t want to be up here without her.

Even when they hadn’t been able to clinch gold on home ice, he’d done the same. He’d been there. He’d known when to let her have space, and when to push.

She loves him so, so much.

“We’ll get there,” is what he says, jolts her out of the darker clouds. “You and me. Davo, because of course. Matts because…” He trails off as Auston knocks out one, two, three, four targets, then whoops in glee.

Then they watch Sid do it faster, sharper, with a determination in her eyes that makes even Dylan’s breath catch.

Mitch laughs and grabs his phone, firing something off Dylan knows is a chirp. She’s too busy staring. Sid’s too good. Still too good.

“Because of that,” Mitch picks up, tossing his phone away. “Because she doesn’t like losing.” He curls around her tighter, squeezes her in the way she loves best when she feels like this, proud and resentful in equal measure. “We’re all going to be there, Dyls.” And his eyes are shining when she tilts her head to look up. “That’s going to be our game.”

She believes him.

* * *

 

**Auston**

Auston’s still laughing when she makes her way into her hotel room, Carey-less for the night because Tavares took one look at PK after Carey’s shutout and immediately bullied Okposo into handing over some square footage on his floor. Tyler has a pool on that, too, it seems: marriage, kids, the whole nine yards.

Auston flops down on her bed to catch her breath. She can barely do it with her adrenaline still pumping from the skills, from only losing in accuracy to Sid, from being around so many women, so many legacy players…

She kind of doesn’t know what to do with herself.

There are too many messages on her phone, congrats and praise and a couple of keyboard slams from Mitch, but Auston’s not paying attention to those. She thumbs her way through the list until she settles on the only person she really wants to talk to.

_Lookin good Matts._

She feel the way her face warms, and the blush she can’t seem to stem. Sometimes she thinks it shouldn’t be like this, that he shouldn’t make her stomach do flip-flops at the simplest complement. She hasn’t once lost her cool to the media, hasn’t once gushed, unrestrained, about playing alongside women she’s admired for so long - and some of the men too to be honest, but the _women_.

She’s laughing, giddy and hyped up on it, as she presses the little phone in the top corner, hitting call before she really thinks about it. She has a split second of second-guessing panic before he picks up sounding bright and excited.

“Auston Matthews, you absolute beauty.”

Auston’s breath catches. He sounds… god, she’s not even sure there’s an adjective for what’s in his voice. She thinks maybe there are a lot of things she hadn’t anticipated when it came to him. She laughs again, breathless.

“How was it?”

“Amazing,” is what she settles on after a few times of opening and closing her mouth, trying to parse out an emotion in the swirl of them all. Tyler and Carey and hanging out, chirping, Sidney Crosby.

“You killed it.”

“I fucked up the stick handling.”

“Matts.”

There’s a silence, more than a few drawn-out moments, but it’s comfortable - easy. “You should be here.”

He laughs. “Nah, I shouldn’t. It’s you, Aus. It’s always going to be you.”

She feels the pout turn down her mouth. He’s right, is the thing. He doesn’t get near the credit he deserves for a skill that is so different from hers, but he’s still right.

“I’m too much of worker bee.”

She snorts inelegantly. “Yeah, but we like you that way.”

“We?”

“Willy adores you,” she teases, even as her cheeks heat with her blush. He stays silent until she can’t hold it it, like he knows her too well by now (maybe he does). “Me. I do.”

His laugh is low and it makes Auston’s stomach warm. “Yeah, you do.”

And Auston, feeling too self-deprecating and still riding too much of an adrenaline high, says, “I miss you.”

“Auston.”

“I do. You should be here. It’s weird, not having you here.”

“Hey,” he counters warmly. “Don’t mope.” There’s a bit of an incredulous laugh. “You’re at the All Star Game!”

“I got chirped by Crosby.”

“You got shown up by Crosby,” he answers.

“Worth it. She’s so fucking good.”

“The best,” he agrees. There’s a beat, then two, before he says, “Proud of you, though.”

It shouldn’t feel this warm, it shouldn’t matter this much. But it does, because it’s him and Auston… Auston’s a bit of a mess over this little shit.

“Next year,” she tells him, reckless. “Next year, you’re going to be here.”

“Yeah?”

Auston thinks of how this would feel with him beside her instead of on the phone, how much she wants to feel him here now even though she just went up against Sidney fucking Crosby and has been rubbing elbows with Tyler Seguin all weekend. “Yeah.”

He laughs. “Could be fun,” he agrees, warm and with an underlying emotion that makes Auston’s breath catch. Sometimes it feels like they come so close. “Be your arm candy.”

She makes an indignant noise and he laughs even harder. She’s just opening her mouth to give him all of the shit over that mindset when there’s an honest to god banging on her door.

“Matts what are you doing, why are you not out here?” Jack’s voice calls. “Segs says she’s going to smuggle you and Davo drinks all night and you have got to experience him drunk-”

Auston rolls her eyes. “Coming!” Then she zones back into where he’s _still_ laughing at her. “I can hang up on you.”

“You’re going anyway. Snap me, I want to see him drunk.”

“That’s a violation.”

He hums. “Doesn’t seem to bug you when it’s Marns.”

“Marns deserves to be taken down a peg or he gets emotional about Stromer and that’s just pathetic.”

“Auston Matthews, get off the goddamn phone, I swear to god-”

“I’ll talk to you later.” There’s a pause and Auston buries her ear in the pillow to drown out Jack just to hear him. “I miss you, too.”

Her stomach warms. “I’ll see you when I’m back.”

“I’ll be here.”

He always is.

* * *

 

**Carey**

“PK. Come on, it’s time to get up.”

He grumbles noisily, and turns his face further into the pillow. “Pricey, why are you out there and not under the covers with me.”

She grins and reaches for the hand that’s blindly groping around searching for hers. Her heart glows at the deeply satisfied sound he makes when he links their fingers together. “Because we have breakfast and then a team to wrangle for the games this afternoon.”

“Boring. We should just stay here.”

“Can’t. Captain, remember?”

Like magic, he emerges from the pillows like Aphrodite from the sea and beams at her. “Have I told you what a great captain you are, Pricey?”

“Many times,” she laughs, leaning over to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “I’m pretty sure everyone watching Sportsnet knows, too.”

“Well, they shouldn’t mic me up and ask me questions about you. Anyway, they should be used to it. It’s not like I’m going to stop. ‘Oh, PK’s saying something complimentary about Carey Price, it must be a Tuesday.’”

Carey just shakes her head, thinking about how she’s not exactly used to it, either. Not in a bad way, never in a bad way. It’s just that while she’s always known her own worth, it’s another to hear it so unreservedly, so unabashedly, from someone who loves her the way PK does. His love is like standing in the middle of the sun, surrounded by light and with no fear of being burned.

God. She loves this ridiculous, amazing, firework of a man.

PK pokes her cheek and she realizes she’s probably been staring at him pretty dumbly. “What are you thinking, Pricey? Oh, I know: ‘What a handsome guy.’”

“Nope,” she replies on autopilot, changing tact because it’s not as easy for her to admit her feelings out loud, even when it’s PK. “I’m thinking I need to wrangle people and I need my best guy to help.”

He shakes a finger in her face, making her go cross-eyed. “Noooo, that’s not it. You’re blushing, Carey Price. You _were_ thinking about me, weren’t you?”

He’ll start tickling her in about five seconds, so Carey makes the first move and pins him to the bed in a flurry of limbs. PK doesn’t even protest, doesn’t struggle, just beams up at her.

“Ooooh, are we going to wrestle?” Those eyebrows. Honestly.

Sadly, when she looks at the clock there really isn’t any time. “Maybe later. But if you hustle, you can wash my back in the shower.” She leans down to kiss him, slow and lazy, before swinging off him and sauntering to the bathroom.

He does more than wash her back, but if they’re a few minutes late for breakfast, well. No one calls them out on it.

* * *

 

**Dani and Marcia**

She’s said it a hundred times: she hates being injured and she hates that a 3-on-3 format severely limits the number of players invited. She have to admit, however, that she’s having fun watching the game. It always starts pretty slow and casual, players zooming around at probably a third of their usual speed, and checking almost nonexistent. Carey’s almost lazy as she redirects shot attempt after shot attempt.

She can almost hear the dialogue in her head: “Imma just...scoot you this way, bud.”

“Let me just...poke-check here oooh thanks for the puck man.”

What she _can_ actually hear is Sid’s frustrated, “AW,” when her pass to Ovechkin goes wide. Like, miles wide. It’s far too amusing, and she’s cackling as she texts Dani. _Think Sid’s getting a little worked up, there._

_You know she wants that goal._

_Especially against Matthews._

_No, just in general and you know it._

_Uh-huh. Keep telling yourself that. As if that wasn’t part of her motivation during the accuracy shooting yesterday._ Then Auston bobbles her little breakaway and she kind of has to clutch at her heart a little. _Omg I think the rookie’s nervous._

_She has been passing more, not shooting as much. Deferring to older players, maybe._

_That definitely doesn’t fit what we’ve seen so far. She’s kind of a shit and I love it. Kid’s got flash, she should show it off._

_Not everyone likes to be as showy as you, Marcia._

“Jesus,” she says aloud as the goal horn goes off _again._ “Is everyone going to be on hatty watch, here?” Her hands go up in the air when Sid finally scores off a rather...ordinary feed from Ovechkin but hey, they’ll take it. Plus her dumb, relieved grin as she goes for fistbumps at the bench is hilarious.

_Fucking finally, Sid._

_It’s not the prettiest but it’ll do._

_This whole not being there kind of sucks. We’ll definitely be back next year._

_If anyone can steamroll into the ASG, it’s definitely you._

_I’ll take that as a compliment._

She can almost see the smile on Dani’s face when she reads, _You always do._

**Author's Note:**

> So. We've officially revealed Mal's ship. Yes, it's total crack, and yes, it will make sense (we hope) when her story comes out. And more Auston hints, though it's probably pretty obvious by now, yes?
> 
> We've been toying with the idea of a side ficlet detailing Steph, Latts, and Gally's tropical adventures during the break. Let us know if this is something you're interested in!
> 
> As always, if you want more GB, we live on Tumblr here: [wonthetrade](http://wonthetrade.tumblr.com)


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